Prisoner of Love

	Kitty Russell languished against the pillows.  She hadn’t spent that much time lying down “resting” since she was an infant and even then her mother claimed she’d been a fussy baby.  Her head still throbbed a bit but her fever was gone and she felt like getting up and seeing how business was.  Pulling the light robe on, she waited till the spinning stopped to head for the door.  Opening it, Kitty found a double barreled shotgun leveled at her and Chester Goode’s stiff leg barring the path to the stairs.  Without looking up from his napping position, Chester announced, “Doc, she’s awake.”
	Kitty knew she’d be in for it and with a growl she smacked Chester’s shoulder, “Rat!” 
	Chester jumped which caused the tipped chair legs to slide out from underneath him and the shotgun to blast a large hole through the Long Branch ceiling.  Kitty’s yelp had Doc and Matt up the stairs in record time. “Chester,” Matt exclaimed, “What in the world are you doing?”
	The jailer tried to explain, “You said to guard the door.”
	“For goodness sakes, Chester you could have killed her!” Doc hollered.  
	Chester cowered on the floor amidst the debris, “Well I wasn’t aiming to hit her.”
	“Oh fine.  Kitty, are you all right?” Doc asked turning his attention to their prisoner.  
	Kitty nodded, “Yeah now that I’ve aged ten years in a split second.” She was a little shaky however and backed into the room without fuss.  She headed for the settee but Doc goaded her, “Bed.”
	“Oh Doc,” she grumbled but he insisted. 
	“Bed!” 
	The redhead looked from the lovable troll of a physician to the friendly but serious looking giants and went back to the bed to climb in like a recalcitrant child.  With crossed arms she pouted, “I’m not a little kid you know.”
	Doc wasn’t buying it a second and checked her ear and back of her head, “You’re younger than I am so that makes you a kid in my book.  Look at me.”
	Kitty’s blue eyes were clear as a bell and they strayed from Doc’s intense gaze to Matt Dillon.  Doc prodded, “I’m the doctor not Matt.”
	Kitty’s eyes focused again on Adams.  He declared, “Well, her eyes work anyway.”
	“She looks fine to me Doc,” Chester Goode inserted which won him a scathing remark from the doctor, “Chester why don’t you figure out how to patch the cannon hole in Kitty’s roof so she doesn’t catch pneumonia too instead of passing out half cocked medical advice!”
	Chester sulked and Dillon softened him up, “It’s all right.  Go tell Jonas to put whatever you’ll need on the bill and I’ll pay for it.”
	Kitty flashed Chester a reassuring smile to let him know she wasn’t mad at him and he limped out relieved at least.  
	Doc shook his head, “Why you put up with him half the time is beyond me.”
	“He’s a good man Doc.  Besides, he didn’t mean to shoot her.” 
	“No, and you did have him guarding me,” Kitty pointed out.  
	The older man muttered.
	“Can I sit up now?” Kitty fairly pleaded.  
	“No!” he growled and then changed his mind, “You can sit up for an hour at a time and then you have to lay down for two.  If I find out you’re walking around up here or sitting up working on the books I’ll get some of Matt’s handcuffs and cuff you to the bed.”
	Kitty took the threat seriously, “Yes sir, doctor sir.”
	Doc Adams started to go and saw Dillon wasn’t following, “Your two weeks aren’t up yet.”
	“I can talk to her can’t I?” Matt challenged.  
	Doc squinted up at him, “Talk? Yeah, you can talk to her.”
	Matt chuckled as Adams left and waited till the doctor was at least halfway down the stairs, “Those handcuffs sound like they might be kinda fun.”
	Kitty’s eyes crinkled at the thought, “Sure do… in a few days though.  I’ll have to make sure he catches me dancing around then.”
	Matt was serious, “Only if you’re really well.”
	“Promise,” Kitty swore and sighed, “I bet you’ll never take me riding again.”
	“Not soon that’s for certain and never with that side saddle again.  That thing’s dangerous,” Dillon decided.  
	“But don’t you want to be seen with a lady?” Kitty protested.  
	Matt sat down on the edge of the bed took her hand and vowed, “Anyone ever tries to say otherwise, they’ll have to answer to me.”  
	“I’m sorry I worried you so bad,” she said earnestly.
	“How could you tell?”
	“You got so rattled you called me honey,” Kitty pointed out as evidence.  
	“I didn’t mean it,” Matt defended, but knew he’d been had.  Kitty had told him about how she hated pet names.  A saloon girl was always called ‘honey’, ‘sweetie’, or a dozen other variations till she couldn’t remember her own true name.  Kitty’d made it clear to Matt that she had a name and wanted him to use it when he addressed her.  He’d made a point to always remember that even though he did sometimes tease her with the name Red, and she would come back with Cowboy until it became their private joke.  
	Kitty frowned, “You didn’t?”
	Matt’s thumb swirled along the top of Kitty’s knuckles.  He had worried a lot about Kitty, more than he really cared to.  He never liked feeling helpless, “You feel better don’t you?”
	Kitty heard a lot in that silent change of topic.  She felt her face redden with the thought.  Dillon noticed the flush, “Fever back?”
	She leaned forward to kiss him tenderly, “I’ve always got a fever around you Cowboy.”
	Matt glanced at her, let go of her hand, and got ready to leave.  Putting the hat on his head he said, “Remember the doctor’s orders Red, as soon as you start dancing around I’ll be back with those handcuffs…”
	Kitty’s healthy laugh followed him down the stairs.